Swab Kits, Warm Beer, and Love Letters
by karashferd
Summary: Jane is losing sleep over Maura. Maura thinks it's mold in her apartment. Jane wrote a letter. Maura accidentally finds it. She reads it, of course. Jane finds out. Maura reacts in a way Jane didn't expect. Something in there about a sexy voice and warm beer too. Chapter 3, the conclusion, now up!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters; I certainly do not intend to receive any profit from borrowing them. They belong to, well, we all know who they belong to… but we are secretly hoping they belonged to us. Ohhh, the things we could do.

. . . . . .

The path was smooth, perfect for an intentional strike pattern. The kicking of debris behind her shoes and the clicking of sprinklers were the harmonies to her morning run and patterned breathing. There was some sort of peace and serenity she had been seeking and here—the nature, the faint barking of dogs and hum of footsteps… _Wait, what the hell am I thinking? I was dragged out of my comfortable, warm, bed to go running at the ass crack of dawn._ "Maura! How much longer? I feel a leg cramp coming on soon." Jane called to her friend who was a few strides ahead.

"Endorphin kick," she exhaled deeply, "as soon as we hit that." Her voice panted as she turned to meet the red-faced and sweaty detective.

Jane keeled over and placed her hands on her squatting knees, "I don't even want one. You and your endorphins…" she mumbled.

"Jane," she jogged in place, "Jane stand up."

The taller brunette stood up on her cue and proceeded to walk over to a nearby bench to sit and catch her breath. Maura thinned her lips and pouted at the detective, joining her anyway. "No runner's high today," she eased on the bench next to her friend.

Jane wiped beads of sweat from her temples, "sorry Maur, I just didn't get a whole hell of a lot of sleep last night."

The doctor's heart dropped, she didn't like where this was going. "Are you experiencing night hallucinations again?" Her question slipped by without an answer for a few moments and she placed her friend's hands between hers. "Judging by the inflammation of your conjunctiva and pigment of you sclera it is easy to determine this is not blepharitis or—"

The detective drew one hand away from its hold to hover her friend's mouth, " I'm just not sleeping, that's why my eyes are red. I don't have an eye disease like beef-or-titus or whatever you said." She instinctually rubbed her eyes. "Just, strange dreams—they're keeping me up at night."

Maura nodded while listening to her friend, "well, what have you been dreaming of?"

Jane stared at her with her whole body pleading to not have to answer that question; it was just far too embarrassing to share. She could not tell her the truth no matter what the doctor read in the micro-expressions on her face. The Gods had spoken, on time. Both of their phones rang simultaneously.

"Rizzoli."

"Dr. Isles."

. . . . . .

They fast approached the scene with to-go coffee in their hands. It was crisp outside for an early Saturday in the late of August for Boston. Jane bid a good morning to her partner, Frost, and Korsak and quickly went into to detective mode to assess the homicide while Maura snapped on her gloves to inspect the body.

"Looks like the vic was being chased into the alley and knocked all the garbage cans down behind her to slow down the killer," Frost noted the trash cluttering about in the alley and the tipped over bins. "The owner to the bakery called it in this morning when he was about to load the truck for deliveries. He's clean."

Jane scanned over the medical examiner, closely, as she advanced toward the body lying face down on the pavement. "We get an ID?" She tried miserably to not stammer her words while nearing the ME.

"No ID, but a bunch of credit cards with all different names," Korsak informed her.

"Hm, maybe she stole the wrong wallet," she squatted down next the medical examiner and took in the scene with the strongest attention to detail anyone had seen. Picking out torn denim material attached to knocked over trash cans and small specks of blood, or 'reddish-brown stains' on the top layer of waste littering the alley.

When the scene had been assessed thoroughly by all detectives, they went back to headquarters to get started on the case while the autopsy was being completed. The ME had concluded a blunt, somewhat round-tipped instrument about the size of a half dollar stabbed into the back of neck was the cause of death. She had also picked slivers and splinters from the wound, indicating the murder weapon was made from wood. "Someone very strong must have done this; the weapon was rounded at the top and would need a great deal of muscular force to penetrate the skin. The entry and exit points do however imply the object had been sharpened unevenly due to the tear marks and inner abrasions of the tissues. The wounds on her knees and hands from falling were perhaps hours prior to being stabbed. Time of death indicates it was in the last six hours."

The detective nodded, staring at the corpse through her blood-shot eyes and trying solidly to focus instead of capturing tickles of Maura's conditioner and personal scent in her nose. "Korsak is running her fingerprints right now; I'm going to share this information with them. Coffee soon?"

"I'll need it," The ME huffed as she watched the detective turn away abruptly.

"_You _woke _me _up at 5:00 in the morning, it's your own fault that you're tired!" Jane laughed through the doors, hearing an echo from her friend behind her.

Approaching Brick, she saw the recently murdered woman's lively face on the screens across the wall.

"Lucy Chalk, 29. She was a model and actress. Pulled up this YouTube video of her ex-boyfriend, and manager, screaming and yelling at her during an infomercial shoot—I think we should give him a call. Checked out his records, has a history of violence with models."

. . . . . .

Maura sat across from the detective while Angela brought them coffee to the table. Jane's eyes and focus still hazy, the doctor was beginning to worry more. "You would tell me if you were doing drugs right?"

"Probably not," she shot sarcasm at the ME while adding sugar to her mug.

"How many beers did you have last night? Sometimes alcohol can—"

"None! Frankie drank mine the other night when he came over for dinner and a baseball game and I forgot to get more."

"Could be the presence of mold in your apartment; mold can cause eye irritation and the stench alone can keep anyone up at night and allude to suggestive and odd dreaming. Especially in someone that has a particularly fined olfactory sense like you. I'm going to come over tonight and collect some swab samples."

Jane's head began aching from all the eye rolling she did during Maura's speech. "That's not necessary, Maur."

"I'll bring beer for you while I swab."

The detective perked upright, "what time?" She smiled shamelessly at her friend.

"How about you figure out this case while I go over the body again and we'll figure something out." She winked at the brunette and gently tapped the back of her hand.

Angela came walking from behind the counter and up to the women with her hands full of cleaning supplies. "Either of you know how to unclog a sink?"

Her daughter smirked at her as she stood up to offer help before getting back just as mamma Rizzoli lost grip of the items in her arms. Jane bent down to help her retrieve them and stopped hastily. Maura saw the change in her friend and hopped off the stool to take notice of what she was staring at.

"A plunger?" The doctor squinted trying to make sense of it.

Jane turned the handle of the plunger around to face the honey blonde and, "does the match the wound on the victim?"

They immediately ran to the morgue to run a couple of tests and quickly determined the handle to a plunger was the murder weapon. The detective darted back to Brick to share this information with Frost and Korsak.

"Frost, any idea what her last gig was?"

A few clicks on the computer and he pulled up evidence of it being for an infomercial for industrial cleaning products. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I found out the murder weapon was a plunger," Jane declared with an odd expression. _A plunger, really? _She thought to herself.

"Haven't heard that one before," Korsak chuckled while standing from his desk with Frost.

They left immediately to retrieve warrants while Jane went over footage from the photo shoots and commercials the victim had taken part in. Maura came to help speed things along as the night was closing in and they were so close to solving the case. The ME gestured for her friend to take a look at what was on her computer. Jane promptly stood and leaned over the doctor, arms on either side of the blonde's body, and hair cascading so it formed a curtain to the glass wall beside them.

Maura eased in the chair with her friend's presence behind her and instinctively bit her lip while taking a quick inhale to capture the scent of long, dark, wavy, brunette hair falling onto her own shoulder. She cleared her throat to get back on task, "his height to weight ratio provides a very muscular physique and would have enough torque once Lucy had fallen face down to impale her."

The detective rubbed her friend's arm, "good catch, Maur." She dialed her partner's number informed him of the man they came across in photographs and asked for he and Korsak to target him first.

. . . . . .

Korsak offered to buy a round at the Dirty Robber to celebrate one of the quicker cases in the last couple of years. Unfortunately Frost was the only one to jump on board. Jane had stressed she wanted to go check on Joe Friday and Maura stated she need to do swab testing for mold in Jane's apartment. Both male detectives let this slide as the women left for the night.

"Hold on, just let me run down to my office to grab a swab kit," the doctor's face lit up like a nerdy kid in a science shop.

Jane sat back on her heels in the lobby and took another look at the names on the wall, the photographs lining the glass case, and the memories pasted floor to ceiling. She rocked back on forth on her feet, swung her arms to mimic her body, exhaled deeply between pursed lips. "You're nervous," Maura interrupted her trance.

"No I'm not," she protested quickly.

The ME cocked her head to the side as if to evaluate her from a different angle, her findings were inconclusive. "Ready?"

They each drove their own cars to Jane's place—the detective would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit she wanted to get there minutes before Maura to do a sweep of the place to make sure it was clean and to hide something extremely close to her and very crucial. Something she never wanted the medical examiner to see. She ran inside, patted Joe Friday on the head and refilled her water and food bowls, straightened up pillows, organized the mail and magazines on her coffee table, threw all the dirty dishes in the sink into the dishwasher, ran a wet rag over the counter, sprayed some freshener in the air, all without realizing she left the door open and the shorter blonde stood there watching her the whole time.

"You missed a spot," she said to the tall brunette as she entered and placed the six pack of beer in the fridge. She watched Jane's body freeze like a deer in headlights, she was two minutes shy of having a nervous breakdown. Pivoting toward her friend, the doctor placed a hand on her shoulder, "Jane? Are you all right?"

"Fine." She exhaled quickly. "You swab, I'll drink and order some food." She grabbed a warm beer and retreated to the couch, never blinking her eyes.

Maura hated to speculate, but she was afraid there was something going on with her friend. A sort of nervousness she had never seen before. "I'm going to start in the bathroom, did you want to shower first so you can relax while I work?" The detective watched her friend take her warm beer and place it in the freezer while she made way for her stand up, not taking 'no' for answer.

She began to ease, marginally, "oh, there's that science journal on the coffee table. You mentioned it in the café the other day so I tracked one down for you."

The doctor's grin grew across her face as she watched her friend's back turn to the bathroom "oh great!" She sat down on the couch and began to flip through the trashy magazines, a Vanity Fair, a TV Guide, a Tiger Beat? _Really, Detective Rizzoli? _She thought to herself.

When pulling the science journal loose an envelope fell from the bindings, she casually picked it up and placed it on the table. _For Maura _she read while tossing it back on the paper heap on the table.


	2. That Cluttered Coffee Table

Author's Note: This is my love letter to someone. I don't know as if she will ever read it, or ever fully know, but I just had to put it somewhere.

. . . . . .

She burned holes in the plain envelope with her searing gaze. She picked it up and looked around for privacy. Jo Friday was busy eating, Jane was showering, the coast was clear.

_Maura, _she read on.

_There's a part of me that will never leave you. I value every second you choose to spend with me like I've been given precious stones that I'm sure you know all of the names to and I would pretend like I didn't care that you knew it but secretly listen to every single term you used. I have been debating this for a while, how I feel. But when it comes to you, I just can't help myself. I don't think anyone has ever felt as strong about anything in comparison to how I feel. I have done a lot to shy away from these thoughts, denied many of my actions and words. Honestly, when it all comes down to it, I dream about you. Every damn night. Sometimes it is pretty simple and to the point but completely clouded with metaphors and notions I can't even try to ignore anymore. One time I was sitting on the floor in my apartment and attempting a 1,000 piece puzzle, I had it all completed except for one corner—suddenly you appeared holding all the pieces I was missing. Another time we were sitting at a dock near the harbor and had our pants rolled up and our feet barely dipped into the ocean, just our toes, afraid to push anymore. We sat there all night—my dream had become a painting at that point and I couldn't stop myself from being drawn to it. You're my lucky charm. In everything I do, I think of you, I think of a moment we shared, and I know I have the strength to get on through the day. Sometimes I am pouring milk into my cereal and I think of the times you made me breakfast and rubbed soothing patterns across my back while I made coffee. It hurts when I can't kiss you goodnight. It hurts when I can't hear your voice next to me in the morning. It kills me when someone has made you cry or even shed a tear—I have to hold myself back from trying to wrap my arms around and just rock you back and forth. Occasionally, it's a struggle to be alone with you when all I want to do is feel your lips on mine and comb my fingers through your always-perfect hair. I think about it all the time. What it would be like to kiss you. I'd tell you good morning with one, I'd kiss you over scrambled eggs and laugh with you when we accidentally burnt them. I would kiss you so you could tell me all the random facts you know about kissing. I would kiss you if you spilled your drink or kept a red sock in with our white laundry and of our clothes came out pink. I would hold your hand while you read the paper and I caught up on sports and trashy television. I would always be the big spoon so I could protect you from nightmares. I'd share my pillow with you every night and rub your feet when you've been walking in heels too long. And I hate feet. But I know I wouldn't hate yours. I want you, in every sense of the word. You're Maura, how could I not do these things for you. You may never fully understand it, but you are the best. The absolute best person I know. You are a model for what people should be and what others should strive to be. But they never would. It's just You. You are my everything. You pull me out of the dark every single day with what appears to be zero effort. You are home to me. And I am head over heels, unconditionally, in love with you. I'm in love with you. I'm in love… with you._

Maura placed the letter on her lap and dabbed her sleeves at her damp eyes. She tried to muffle a sniffle into her arm as she stared at the letter once more.

"Maur?"

She snapped around, her heart trying to beat out of her chest. The honey blonde tried to open her mouth to speak and no words fell out. All she saw was Jane standing there, wet hair, fresh skin, sweat pants, and a white tank top. The ME lifted herself from the couch.

Jane saw a piece of paper in her hand, she gasped inwardly. It was it. What she was trying to hide. "Did… did you…?" She stammered uncontrollably.

The doctor's chest was rising and falling as if she had just completed another Boston marathon. She couldn't speak. She couldn't form words in her brain to manipulate her mouth into expression. She moved from around the sofa and toward Jane who was now backing into the kitchen counter. Maura rested the letter on the barstool so her friend could see what she read.

"Maur, please say something, you look—" she was shushed with a gentle noise from her shorter friend.

Maura looked down at the three tile spaces between them and at Jane's shaking hands. She delicately reached for one and took it between hers, a motion they had done dozens of times before, but this instance felt different. She could feel something like electricity circuiting through her veins, the peach-fuzz hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up. She felt cold and shaking on the inside but her skin felt as if it was on fire and blushing to hues of red she never thought capable. Looking down at their hands once more, she closed in on the tile separating them and swayed closer to her friend.

Brushing her fingertips along the strong jaw of the detective and pushing loose hairs out of her face, she looked into Jane's eyes, allowing to read the words she didn't know how speak at the moment. Her breathing had alleviated somewhat and she searched. Across her face, between every eyelash, within each follicle among her eyebrows and the crown of her head, the shape of her neck, and chin, and lips. She looked up immediately. Maura let out a breath and cupped her hands around the detective's cheeks, drawing their foreheads together. Jane wrapped her slender fingers around her friend's smaller wrists and felt her pulse quickening. She respired deeply and shut her eyes. The doctor used the pads of her thumbs to trace circles along the stress in the brunette's face. She parted their foreheads and tilted her friend's head down, noticing her eyelids were closed. She took a quick gulp of courage and finality. She leaned in and covered Jane's lips with hers, pressing with little force but enough to let her friend know this wasn't a dream. The doctor couldn't have guessed how normal that felt. It was warm and soft, but there was nothing typical about this. It completed the sentences in her head, supplied oxygen to her body, and hushed the hesitation in her smaller figure. She felt her friend's arms wrap around her waist and lift her to the tips of toes. Their lips firm against each other's and gliding in a way that felt all too natural to them. Jane moved her hands all over her body to make sure it was really happening.

"I'm here, Jane. I'm here." Maura whispered between kisses. "You have me."


	3. Speak to me

Authors Note: Sorry it took me so long to update the final chapter. Things been craaazy. Back on task and more stories on the way. Thank you for reading!

. . . . . .

The sun baking the windowsill and the shades drawn, a yellow glow illuminated the room. The detective brushed the exposed skin of the woman resting beside her with the softness in her lips.

"Good morning," Maura placed her hand behind her head, lifting up just slightly.

The detective drank in the honey blonde's scent, dizzying herself into a sunrise trance. "You are my Christmas morning."

The ME rolled on top of Jane, resting one leg between her friend's, bed sheets barely draping across their bodies, "for a detective, you're not as big of a hard-ass as you think you are. I was pleasantly surprised by how tender and soft but supple and strong you were."

Jane quickly thought to back to what happened after Maura kissed in the kitchen.

_Finally taking control and eliminating the nervous feelings gushing around her, she spun the doctor around and placed either hand on the side of her, pressing closer into the counter. She let her hips do the talking before she became paralyzed with a frenzied sensation across her limbs. Just as she had imagined, Maura responded kindly to this by losing her fingers in the velvety wavy chestnut locks. Every kiss, every touch, every trace of a fingertip among her skin gave the detective courage. She wasn't the only one who wanted this. She vigorously grabbed the back of her friend's thighs lifting her up into her arms. Legs forming a belt around her waist, she carried the doctor to her bedroom—not even caring whether or not she remembered to make the bed._

"Are you okay?" Maura pulled her out of her thought.

She shook her head loose for a moment, "yes," kissing the woman's palm resting on her cheek, "I was thinking about last night."

The doctor reciprocated by laying a kiss on Jane's shoulder.

"_Jane." It was barely a whisper before being covered with the detective's mouth. She traced the outline of the smaller frame with the curves of her thin lips, pausing when she would feel a hitch of pleasure in the body beneath her. She reached her hip bone and felt the doctor spring off the bed. Paying extra attention to that sensitive area, the brunette ran her tongue across the exposed skin, pulling more and more and the top of her skirt, lowering it just enough that it uncovered lace panties. To keep her reactions in state of surprise, she then burned the imprint of her lips while tugging at the hem of her shirt, exposing new skin for her to explore. Not being able to stand her teasing anymore, Maura began ripping her, and the detective's clothes off. Digging nails into backs, the mischievous grins and smirks as Jane exhaled trails of fire along the blonde's inner thigh._

She watched Maura's eyes as they examined hers, "you're my best friend." The doctor stated very matter-of-factly. Honey blonde hair smothering the pillows, she sat up on her elbow to kiss the crown of Jane's forehead. "And I'm in love with you."

After a session of batting eyelashes and morning eye sex the detective's face grew stern and imperative. "What do we do now?"

The doctor sat up with her back against the wooden headboard, "French toast?" She hesitated for a moment, "or _pain perdu?_ Which actually translates in English as 'lost bread.' During the middle ages, European families began using stale bread as a breakfast delicacy because when moistened it would revive its characteristics and taste—though until it gained its present name in print in 1871, French toast was referred to as German, Spanish, or nun's toast."

Jane smiled and shook her head at the short history lesson. "No Maur," she pulled her back down already missing the presence of her flesh and bones on her. "About this, you and I, us—what, what do we do?"

The ME traced the shape of Jane's cheekbones with the softness of her fingertips, as if to help blur the lines between time and understanding. "I don't know what would be different, apart from sexual exploration, kissing, and more forward affection versus undeniable and seemingly conspicuous flirtation." She watched the detective blinked hard. "It appears to everyone and the murmur around the precinct that we are already somewhat of an item. You have already accepted me into your family, your mother has called me her daughter on more than one occasion, we have family dinners, you have a key to my home, and I see you every day and night even when we don't have to work. Dispatch knows they only have to call one of us in order to get both of us to a crime scene. I think this has been a long time coming for everyone." Glancing down at their now locked hands, she peered back up at her friend, her lover, "especially for us."

The brunette let this sink in for a long moment while they held each other without having to claim sides of the bed and settled for the middle, "who thought we were together?"

They felt the giggle roll from each other's bodies into one, "well, Susie in the lab more than anyone else. Each time we had spoken about it and I tried to deny every last bit of evidence she brought to my attention you would come in and bring me coffee, or casually flirt, or just sit in my office and talk with me. I'm surprised you didn't see her walking away rolling her eyes at my disbelief."

The detective chuckled, "no I saw it. I just thought she had a thing for you and didn't like when I was around."

Maura grinned from the corner of her mouth, "actually, she had a 'thing' for you." She watched Jane's eyes widen in skepticism. "Honest. She said it was your voice."

Unaware of what she would sound like after that, she inhaled deeply, looking into the hazel eyes wandering across from her. "What about it?"

The ME allowed the flat sheet to fall around their bodies as she climbed over Jane's hips, "that it's sexy," she lowered herself to kiss both nervous dimples smirking from the detective's mouth, "that it's like smooth like a perfectly made cup of coffee. That it wraps around your throat and pulls you close…" she let her lips glide down the brunettes chin to her clavicle.

"Dr. Isles." Jane released a rasp between her breaths, letting the name roll off her tongue like a confession. She lost her hands in luxurious locks of honey colored hair, calming Maura's heavy gasp with the passion behind her kiss.

"Detective Rizzoli." The ME mimicked her lovers tone before curling her tongue around a bare earlobe.


End file.
